


Long December, A

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-12-01
Updated: 2000-12-01
Packaged: 2019-05-15 22:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14799521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: "Where you should be, no one's around.  I need a phone call."





	Long December, A

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

TITLE: "A Long December" 

AUTHORS: Luna and Jess  

ARCHIVE: Yes, but let us know. 

CATEGORY: General/G-rated 

SUMMARY: "Where you should be, no one's around. I need a phone call." 

NOTES: These characters belong to other, more important people. We're not saving any souls, we're not making any money. This time around, props to Counting Crows and our buddy the Cedars-Sinai webpage. Feedback this story, you'll make our dim lives brighter.

 

A Long December

"A long December, and there's reason to believe  
Maybe this year will be better than the last  
I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leaving  
And the days go by so fast...."  


New Year's Eve, 1997

Every light in the apartment was on. She stomped from room to room, turning on lights and throwing random items into her duffel bag; he followed her, continuing the argument and wishing she wouldn't leave.

She didn't storm out, which he found incredibly irritating. She didn't even slam the door. She just held up a hand to quiet him, and walked out.

Methodically, he retraced their steps through the apartment, switching off the lights in the opposite order that she'd turned them on. As he did so, he noticed the empty spaces on the shelves and the walls. He noticed them most in the bedroom, like how Andrea took the gum from the top of her dresser but left her watch.

Finally, Toby found himself back in the living room. Loosening his tie, he turned off Andrea's ridiculous red lamp and slumped onto the couch. He rested his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands. He sat that way for a long time, until the phone rang.

The noise was shrill, and it echoed through the apartment in a way that made Toby want to throw the phone against the wall. Instead, he just glared at it, as if that would make it stop ringing. After a few rings, the machine picked up.

"Hey, Toby, it's C.J. I'm heading over to a party with Aurelio -- actually, I'm supposed to be there now, but -- anyway, I just wanted to say happy New Year. Talk to you soon."

Toby stared at the answering machine for a minute and tried to remember if he had any Scotch left. Just as disruptively as the first time, the phone rang again.

"Hey, it's me again. I know you're there. Well, okay, I don't actually know you're there. It certainly is possible that you aren't there, but if you're just sitting there listening to this and not answering...." She paused. "Okay, I guess you aren't there. And I have to go, so... happy New Year. Did I already say that? Oh, well. Bye."

Toby shook his head and wandered to the kitchen. He desperately wanted a Scotch, but all he could find was Andrea's Absolut in the freezer. He poured a bit into a glass, diluting it with a blast of tap water, and gritted his teeth as he took a drink. With a sigh, he shuffled back into the living room and wasn't surprised when the phone rang for a third time.

"Okay, Toby, listen. I was halfway down the hall and I came back because I know that you're home. Is there some reason that you're not picking up? Are you ignoring me, specifically, or are you just ignoring the world in general? Have you forgotten that I have your address and, if need be, I will find you and kick your ass? Toby...."

* * *

New Year's Eve, 1990

Toby would have been glad to be anywhere else in the world.

There couldn't be a worse way to spend New Year's Eve than in a crowded room full of stuffed-shirt politicians and strategists indulging in round after round of mutual ego massage. Although, he supposed, it wouldn't be so bad if anyone would look him in the eye.

He stood by the wall, scanning the clusters of overwhelmingly boring people with a dark expression. Andrea was on the other side of the room, laughing at a long, involved story the Illinois senior senator was telling. Though he couldn't hear her, and could only see her in occasional glimpses, he knew it wasn't a genuine laugh. It didn't matter, though; it was part of the game. He just wasn't used to being on the sidelines.

Toby took a sip of his drink and glanced at it with surprise. He was used to having badly-mixed drinks at these things; this time, the Scotch was unexpectedly good. He shot an approving look toward the bar. As he took another swallow, something caught his attention.

A Congressman from California was sitting by the bar, gesturing a little dangerously with his glass of champagne. He was talking animatedly to a woman in a red dress. Every now and then, he would either place a hand on her arm or sniffle and absently rub his nose. The woman's polite smile barely concealed that she was near panic. She turned her head and caught Toby looking at her.

He would have been embarrassed, except that her face lit up when she saw him. She leaned toward the Congressman and murmured something, then stood up, abandoning her own drink. Toby was startled to realize how tall she was as she hastily crossed the room, making her way directly towards him. She greeted him brightly.

"Pretend you're talking to me."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I know you don't know me," she continued quickly in an undertone, "but I really, really needed to get away from Congressman Downey, so I said you were an old friend of mine and I had to come over and say hello. So if you could just talk to me for a few minutes, until he loses interest or passes out, I'd be very grateful."

She looked at him pleadingly. Toby tilted his head and studied her. "Okay."

"You're a lifesaver," she replied, fervently. "If I sat there another minute, I think he would have poured his champagne down my dress."

"Or asked if you wanted to do a line," Toby deadpanned. "Congressman Downey's reputation precedes him."

She broke into a musical laugh, then glanced furtively over her shoulder. "God, he's still staring at me. Pretend you're talking to me."

He raised his eyebrows. "I hate to state the obvious, but I am talking to you."

"Yes."

"Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." She extended a hand. "C.J. Cregg."

"Toby Ziegler."

They shook hands, and C.J. smiled suddenly. "I know who you are. You're married to Andrea Wyatt, right?" He nodded. "Yeah, I ran a benefit once where part of the money went to her campaign."

"You're with...?"

"EMILY's List."

"EMILY's List?" he repeated, dubiously.

She sighed. "Don't make fun of the name, please; I've heard enough."

"Okay."

"Didn't you work on the Ray Rudolph campaign?"

Toby sipped his drink. "Unfortunately."

"Well, it was a pretty close race...." She shrugged apologetically.

"I told him he was screwing it up," Toby mused, embitteredly. "I yelled at him, I *begged* him to stop pulling to the middle. I told him exactly what he should say at that damned debate." Toby shook his head. "Obviously, he didn't listen."

"I think it was all the dithering on education that hurt the most," C.J. said. "He kept getting snotty and not saying anything solid."

"That, and the censorship thing." He shook his head in disgust. "Nudging. That was idiotic."

"I thought he actually had a point there. He didn't get it across very well, but it made sense."

"It made no sense," Toby interrupted, and without any further introduction, they were deeply into a debate on the nuances of First Amendment law. He was pleased to discover that C.J. could match him, opinion for opinion, complaint for complaint. He challenged her, she rose to it, and they both began to enjoy themselves and the conversation.

"You don't think it's dangerous?" C.J. demanded, an hour and several subjects later.

"I'm not saying it's not problematic," he countered. "But answer this, is the playing field level?"

"Of course not."

"Of course not! So we should just stand by and let that pass?"

"Yes, but I think it's demeaning and dangerous to say, 'Because you're black, because you're a woman, you can't compete.' That's biased, and if that's a part of the system--"

"Bias is already part of the system," Toby reminded her, with mock exasperation. "That's what...." He trailed off as Andrea sidled up to him. "Hey."

"I finally got rid of Denbrough," Andrea told him, with an exaggerated sigh of relief. "If you listen to that man long enough he'll convince you that Nixon is still technically the President."

Toby rested a hand on her arm. "I don't know if you've met. Andrea, this is C.J. Cregg; she works for--" he looked amused -- "EMILY's List."

"They do good work," Andrea said, nodding to her while smacking her husband lightly on the shoulder. "Honey, it's almost midnight. Come dance with me."

He glanced at C.J. "It was nice meeting you."

"Yes." She smiled. "Thanks for your help with Downey. I owe you."

He shrugged. "I won't hold you to that."

"Don't count on it," Andrea called lightly over her shoulder, as they walked away together.

* * *

1997

"....I'm supposed to be at this party half an hour ago. This is really starting to--"

Toby picked up the phone grudgingly, causing the machine to click off. "Hey."

"You jerk!" C.J.'s tone was frustrated, but jubilant. "I knew you were there!"

"Yeah."

"You were just going to sit there and let me talk to myself on the machine. I knew it!"

"Yeah."

"You--" She stopped short. "What's going on?"

He toyed with his drink. "What makes you think something's going on?"

"I knew you were there," she pointed out. "Stop being a pain."

"Not likely."

"You sound awful. What happened?"

Toby said nothing. He looked around the room. The dim city light filtered through the window, casting slanted shadows on the floor.

"Toby?"

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Andrea wants a divorce."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. "I don't know what to say," C.J. admitted, at length. "Is this... decided?"

"She told me over dinner." He rubbed a hand against his forehead. "She said she'd made up her mind. She didn't want to start another year like this one."

"Wow." She hesitated. "That's pretty lame, Toby."

"I thought so too."

"I hope you didn't say that to her."

"Not in those particular words."

A little static crackled over the line. "I can't say that I'm really very surprised," C.J. said. "I mean, I knew you'd been having problems. I didn't know the extent."

"No."

"Did you?"

"Know the extent?" He pondered that for a moment. "Yes. I did. I do."

"So this wasn't completely out of the blue."

"I don't know." His tone was bleak. "I didn't know she was considering this. It seems -- it's extreme. It's not going to solve anything. It's weak."

"Weak?"

"Marriage isn't a walk in the park, C.J.," he told her, flatly. "You don't just pick up your toys and walk away when it gets difficult."

"I guess not." She sounded thoughtful. "But you're not happy."

"No."

"Andrea isn't happy either."

Toby took a breath. "No."

"If I ask you this next question, are you going to yell at me?"

"There's a good possibility."

C.J. ignored this. "This has been going on for a while. Is there a good possibility that the two of you can work this out?" He didn't answer. She sighed. "You know what you should do? You should take some time; you should come out here for a week or two. It might be easier to figure things out from a distance, and LA's better in the winter than New York."

"Los Angeles is never better than New York," he answered. "I'm going to New Hampshire next week."

"Oh, right. Do you think that's really going to go somewhere, or is it going to wash out by Super Tuesday?"

He was grateful for the change in subject. "Leo McGarry's convinced it's in the bag. I think we have more of a chance than people think we have. We might make it interesting."

"I hope so."

He was quiet for a while, sitting in the dark and listening to the white noise of the long distance call. The connection seemed a little tenuous, sounding echoey and almost hollow.

"You still there?" C.J. asked after a while.

"Yeah. The line's funny."

"It's probably my cordless. I'm sitting on the stairs." She chuckled softly. "With one of my shoes in my hand."

"Right. You're supposed to be out with -- what's his name."

"Aurelio," she said, a touch defensively. "He's a decent guy. He's a cardio-thoracic surgeon at Cedars-Sinai."

"Okay."

"He really is."

"I wasn't questioning it."

"A decent guy, I mean. But he can wait. It's a while to midnight yet."

"Don't waste your evening."

She paused. "You're a stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?"

"Better than anyone else," he said dryly.

"You're obstinate, hard-headed--"

"I get it, C.J."

"My point is, Andrea's pretty tough too. You haven't told me everything she said tonight, but if she's made up her mind...." She trailed off sadly. "I'm sorry. Listen, we don't have to talk about this anymore if you don't feel like it. But you're having a lousy night, and don't you think you're better off talking about anything instead of just sitting there?"

He was silent in the unlit, contemplating the disarray Andrea had left behind. He sipped the last of his vodka, too weary to feel much distaste for it anymore.

"Toby?"

He answered, his voice desolate. "Yeah."

"You think Josiah Bartlet's going to make things interesting, huh?"

Toby leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Yeah."

"I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower,  
Makes you talk a little lower  
About the things you could not show her  
And it's been a long December, and there's reason to believe  
Maybe this year will be better than the last...."

\--

Feedback is, as always, strongly encouraged.

  

The End 

  

  


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